Back Roads
by bourbon
Summary: Just a light and fluffy wintry WJ romp. COMPLETE!
1. Empty

_This is a total change of pace for me...light, fluffy, and (I hope!) funny. I hope you all enjoy it!_

_XXXXXX_

"We're lost, Jordan," Woody finally said after miles of silence.

"We're not lost," Jordan insisted as the two-lane road wound through yet another cow pasture. "Okay, so we're a little lost."

"Why did I let you talk me into taking the 'shortcut'?" He took his hands off the wheel for a moment and waved his fingers in ironic quotes.

"Come on, Woody! Where is your spirit of adventure?"

"I guess I left it back at the gas station a hundred miles ago..._where you should have let me ask for directions!"_

They had driven several hours outside of Boston to meet with a possible witness in a homicide, and Jordan had insisted, as usual, in tagging along. The interview had proven fruitless, which did nothing to elevate Woody's mood on the long drive home.

"Just stay on this road. I know where I'm going, Woody. We're going to hit the highway sooner or later." She waved her hand down toward some unseen point over the horizon.

"Sooner would be better," he grumbled.

"What's the matter? Got a hot date?" she said with a teasing laugh and glanced over at him. He stared straight ahead onto the endless black road, and the laugh died in her throat as she realized that yes, indeed, he did. "Oh," she said and turned her head towards her window.

"Well, it's a date. I don't know how hot," he said almost apologetically.

"Hey, man. Good for you. None of my business."

A silent gloom dropped over the car. In the distance, an old yellow VW rumbled toward them and rattled by. It was the first car they had seen in an hour.

Jordan reached over and socked him on his right bicep.

"Ow! Jordan! What was that for?" He rubbed his arm hurtfully.

"Slug Bug," she said chewing on a piece of red licorice she had bought at the gas station many miles back. She held the package out to him. "Want one?"

He pursed his lips. "No, _thank you._"

"What's the matter? Don't you like red licorice?"

He shook his head. "Red licorice is a contradiction in terms. Licorice is black. Period."

She shrugged and took another bite. "Suit yourself."

The sun was beginning to set, and they were still at least 2 1/2 hours outside of Boston. She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. She was about to sink into a state of semi-consciousness when she heard a heart-stopping sputtering sound.

She snapped open her eyes and sat bolt upright. Woody was staring down at the gas gauge. "No no no no no no no no..." he moaned helplessly as he steered the car to the shoulder.

"Are we out of gas? Tell me we're not out of gas." She looked out onto the darkening road as the Ford chugged to a halt. He mumbled something inaudible. "You _did_ get gas back there, didn't you, Woody?" she asked in an accusing tone.

He turned to her sheepishly. "I didn't fill it up all the way."

"What? _Wood_-y!" She smacked her forehead. "Don't even tell me."

"Did you see how much gas cost back there! It was over two dollars a gallon! I thought we'd pass another station by now."

"Pass another station? We're in the middle of nowhere, Woody!"

He pointed a finger at her. "You said we weren't lost! You said you knew where we were going!"

"I lied!"

They both collapsed back into their seats. He took long, deep breaths to steady himself. "Okay. Okay. I've got AAA. I'll just call them. They'll bring us some gas." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He stared at it for a moment. "Uh...Jordan? Do you have your phone with you?" He held out his phone to her. "No bars. Not one."

She rummaged in her bag and pulled out her cell phone. Her heart dropped. "No service," she said flatly.

He frowned and jumped from the car, slamming the door behind him. The car rocked as he pounded the roof with his fists. Jordan scrambled out of the car and ran around to where he stood at the roadside with his hands on his hips.

"Now, wait, don't panic yet, Woody. A car will pass eventually, right?" she asked hopefully. He glared at her and grunted in reply. They stood for a few minutes looking up and down at the nothingness that streched on and on in all directions. "So. I guess we walk, right?" She pointed to a sign across the road and read it, "Milton. Two Miles. We can pick up some gas there," she said as optimistically as she could. "Only two miles. Could be worse."

"I don't see _how_ it could possibly be worse, Jordan. First, I drag myself four hours outside Boston to interview a possible witness whose memory and eyesight seems to have faded overnight. Then, we run out of gas in a part of the state that looks like a scene out of _Deliverance_. Now, it's maybe twenty degrees, and we're about to start a forced march to West Podunk, Massachusetts. Not to mention the fact that right now I am missing out on what was to have been my first date in _months _after a dry spell that makes the Sahara look like the Amazon rain forest. So, I don't see how this could possibly be any worse, Jordan."

He glowered at her, breathless after his rant.

She thought to say something, a snappy retort or maybe words of encouragement but was stopped as the grey sky opened and the first snowflakes fluttered down and settled on the empty road.


	2. Room 4

"My feet are freezing," she mumbled after they had walked a mile in the rapidly accumulating snowfall.

"At least you can still feel your feet, Jordan."

"You're from Wisconsin. I thought you were used to this kind of thing."

"Well, I never had to walk two miles in the snow wearing wingtips."

They were quiet again, and the only sound on the deserted road was the crunch of their shoes against the snow. The moon's reflection off the white blanket cast an eerie glow, and they walked on.

As they rounded the corner through a cluster of trees, there was the unmistakable red glare of a sign up ahead. She uncurled her frozen fingers and grabbed his arm.

"Look! See that? There's a motel up there!" She ran a few steps ahead and pointed to the flickering neon sign for the Motel Milton.

Woody stopped in his tracks and shook his head. "No. Oh no. Stranded travelers stop at a backwoods motel? That's the opening scene of about 14 different horror movies, Jordan."

"Come on! What's the alternative, Woody? We get gas and walk back, only to find the car buried under a foot of snow? Let's just take a hot shower, spend the night, and start fresh in the morning."

She hurried on as fast as she could without waiting for him. She knew, of course, that he had no choice but to follow, and after a moment, she could hear his quickening footsteps in the snow behind her.

The motel sat amid a cluster of two or three other buildings, and a stoplight hanging over the road swung in the wind and ran through its cycle for no one. This was Milton.

They staggered across the parking lot and fell inside the front office, hungry, tired, and cold. The warm air hit them like a furnace blast as the manager shuffled in sleepily from the back room and leaned against the desk.

"Do you have any vacancies?" Woody managed to say with near-frozen lips. The manager stared back unblinkingly with his stony, New England gaze and jerked his head out toward the empty parking lot. "Okay. Stupid question," Woody muttered.

"One room or two?" the old man asked laconically as Jordan fumbled for her credit card.

"_One room,_" Woody said in a rush.

Jordan whipped her head around and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "_Two beds," _she added quickly, and the old man took her credit car with an indifferent shrug.

"I guess you don't get a lot of folks heading this way, do you?" Woody asked.

"Some." The old man waved a finger over Woody's shoulder. "The road out front used to take you right into Boston 'til they put in the new highway."

"Wait, let me guess," Woody said with a chuckle. "Now, you can't get there from here."

"Ay-uh," the old man closed his eyes and nodded solemnly. "You can't."

"_Wonderful..._" Woody muttered under his breath. "This just keeps getting worse and worse."

Jordan poked him in the ribs. "Is there anyplace around here we could get something to eat?" Jordan asked as the old man passed her the room key.

"Diner cross the street," the man muttered and ambled toward the back room without another word.

"_One room?_" she hissed as soon as they hit the cold air.

"Do you really think I was going to let you stay in a room by yourself? Didn't you see _Psycho?_"

She groaned and swung open the door to Room 4. They stood in the doorway and scanned the room. Neither spoke for a moment. The decor was done up in shades of brown, orange, and avocado green and looked as if it hadn't been remodeled since 1972.

"Didn't the Brady Bunch stay in this motel room on their trip to the Grand Canyon?" he finally deadpanned.

"No, smart guy, they slept outside." she said wearily and tossed her bag on one of the beds. "Which is what we'd be doing if we weren't lucky enough to find this motel."

She turned around to face him. He was still standing in a puddle of melted snow just inside the door. His lips had gone blue and his was shivering uncontrollably.

"That's it. Take off your clothes, Woody." She grabbed the bedspread from his bed and held it up in front of him as a curtain.

"Now that's just cruel," he said humorlessly through chattering teeth as he kicked off his soaked wingtips. "I've dreamed about you saying those words to me for years, and I'm too cold to do anything about it."

She averted her eyes as his clothes fell, one by one, onto a wet pile on the floor. After he had stretched them out to dry on the radiator, she reached out and tried to wrap the bedspread around him.

He held a hand up to stop her. "They never wash those bedspreads, you know. Do you have any idea what people do on those things? Do you have any idea what kind of nastiness is on there?"

She groaned. "I promise you in all my years as an M.E. I have never signed an autopsy report where the cause of death has been 'motel bedspread nastiness.' Hypothermia, on the other hand..."

There was a gentle silence while she wrapped the bedspread around him and rubbed his arms and back. The room was beginning to warm. It was small but cozy, and even the tacky furnishings had sort of a retro charm about them. After his shivering began to subside she slipped her arms around him from behind and laid her head against his back.

"This isn't so bad, is it?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah...the room is actually starting to grow on me," she murmured sleepily. There was a pause, and she realized then that perhaps he hadn't been talking about the room. She pushed away from him quickly. "Hey, you can have first dibs on the shower. I'll see if I can scare up some dinner for us."

She headed for the door as he shuffled to the bathroom. She turned and reached for her bag as he dropped the bedspread at the threshold of the bathroom and her eye caught just a glimpse of flesh as he stepped inside and shut the door.

She smiled a small, surreptitious smile to herself and her hands flew to her hot, crimson cheeks as she stepped back into the frigid air and crossed to the diner.


	3. Meatloaf and Merlot

_God, he's cute..._

The thought sprang to her head, quite uninvited, as she stepped back in from the diner. He stood in the center of the room with a towel wrapped around his waist, combing through his wet hair with his fingers.

He turned as she came in the door and frowned when he saw her there. "What? What's wrong?"

She blinked herself back into the moment. "Nothing," she said and held up one of the plastic bags she was carrying. "Two blue plate specials coming right up."

He took the food from her. "Thanks, I'm starving. What's in the other bag?"

She smiled and reached in the bag. "Some wine to warm us up a little."

"Ah, nothing like meatloaf and a nice full-bodied merlot. The day is beginning to look up," he said with a laugh.

She tossed the key on the dresser and crossed to the bathroom. "Go ahead and start without me. I'm going to hit the shower."

The bathroom was still steamy from Woody's shower. She stood motionless under the stream for a long while until a pleasant, tingly warmth returned to her fingers and toes.

_God, he's cute?_ She rolled her eyes. Had she really allowed herself to voice it? About _Woody_? She shuddered a little. She'd actually used the word "cute," if only to herself.

But he was. He _was_ cute in every good way that the word could mean, and the thought of him in a more-than-friends way always seemed to bubble forth whenever they were thrown together like this, whether in the middle of the California desert or a rundown motel in Milton, Massachusetts.

She smiled as she came back into the room. He gestured to the takeout box and Dixie cup of merlot on her nightstand. "Dinner is served. Here..." He tossed her his button-down shirt. "It's dry now. No need to put your wet clothes back on."

They sat on their beds, he in his boxer shorts, she wearing his shirt as a nightgown, eating a leisurely dinner and becoming contentedly full and warm. The conversation was easy and flowed as freely as the wine.

"Okay. Another question," she said. "First crush?"

He sighed and finished the last of his meatloaf. "Alissa Lane. She had red hair and green eyes and her dad got transferred to Milwaukee and it broke my five year old heart. You?"

"Ray McGee. He lived down the street. I used to beat him up every day after school, and I could never figure out why he didn't like me back. Next question. First love."

He took a sip of wine. "Girl back home in Kewaunee. We were sort of engaged to be engaged, I guess."

"What happened?"

He shrugged. "Just wasn't meant to be. I'm not sorry anymore. All right. Spill it, Cavanaugh. First love."

She wrinkled her nose. "Ahhh. I don't know. Maybe Paul. You met him. The priest? I always thought we'd probably end up married with a couple of kids."

"So, why didn't you?"

"Joining the priesthood kind of put a crimp in our plans." She laughed and then shook her head thoughtfully. "No. It was over long before he took his vows. I guess I knew that. It just wasn't..._right, _you know?"

"Yeah...I do." Their eyes met before she looked away.

"It would be nice someday, though. A family of my own." She looked back at him briefly. "Oh, I know what you're thinking. Jordan Cavanaugh a mother? Sounds crazy, huh?"

He didn't respond for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft and gentle. "No. I don't think it sounds crazy at all."

She changed the subject. "So. Your date. What's her name?"

"Amber."

"_Amber?" _she snorted._ "_So, she's what...a receptionist down at the precinct?"

"No. Actually, she's the new assistant district attorney."

Jordan gulped. "Oh. Great." She grabbed the bottle off the nightstand and refilled her cup.

"Yeah. I testified in a case she was prosecuting. I asked for her number, gave her a call..."

She took a slug of wine and drained her cup. "That's _really_ more information than I need about your dating life, Woody."

He turned his head to her and looked at her curiously. Then, a sly smile spread across his face. "Jordan...you're _jealous!"_

_"Pfffft!"_

"You are! You're jealous!"

"Oh, I am not."

"You're jealous! Because you _like_ me!" he said in a teasing sing-song.

"Do not!"

"Do too! You like me!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too!" He jumped from the bed and did a gleeful little dance. "Jordan and Woody, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

"Do not! Do not! Do not!"

And just when he thought he could not possibly love her any more than he did, her cheeks flushed scarlet, and her hands flew up to cover her face.

He stopped suddenly. "Oh my gosh...you really _do_ like me."

"All right!" she finally blurted. "I _like _you I _like _you." She blushed again.

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then he crossed and sat on the edge of her bed. "Wow."

"But I've had half a bottle of wine, and I think I might have lost a few brain cells out there in the frozen tundra, so nothing I say here can be held against me, okay?" She closed her eyes. "Besides, you've got your life and I'm sure you and Amber will be very happy, so you don't have to..."

But he stopped her mouth with a kiss, long and slow, as he held her face in his hands . When they finally broke, her eyes fluttered open and he sat back looking at her anxiously.

"Oh, _my_," she exhaled.

They looked at each other for a moment. Then, he leaned forward and took her chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted her head back. She closed her eyes again and grazed his lips with her own, as his arm slipped around her yielding body. When it was over a long, long moment later, they were both breathless.

"Well, I can safely say that feeling has finally been restored to all parts of my body," he said in a rough voice.

"Which is why..."

"...we should stop," he finished. He rose from her bed and settled onto his own with a sigh.

She jumped up and smoothed her rumpled shirttails. "Well, uh, I guess I'll just go and freshen up. Get ready for bed." She shuffled awkwardly toward the bathroom, still flushed and flustered.

She stood in the doorway for a moment and looked back at him, and their eyes locked in a wistful gaze. He was on his feet then, jumping across the bed to get to her. He covered her face with kisses, as they both fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. They moved together across the room then, a tangle of arms, legs, and clothes as they fell with a tumble onto the bed with a full, throaty laugh.

The day was beginning to look up, indeed.


	4. On the Road Again

She awoke the next morning feeling woozy and slightly disoriented. She was aware after a moment of the sound of the running water in the bathroom and then smiled to herself and stretched lazily.

_Ah, yes. That._

Woody came from the bathroom then and looked over at her warily. She sat up and pulled the sheet around her.

"Morning," she said, her voice still thick with sleep, and she brushed a tangle of hair from her face.

He stood with his hands on his hips. "Don't beat around the bush, Jordan. Just give it to me straight."

She squinted up at him. "What are you talking about?"

"It never should have happened. We were drunk. Last night was a mistake."

The corners of her mouth turned down. "Is that what you think? Last night was a mistake?" She looked up at him wide-eyed.

"What? Me? No. No!" he said in a rush. "You mean, you don't think it was a mistake?"

She thought for a moment and then grinned. "...No." He grinned back at her and perched with relief on the end of the bed. "We've been running in circles so long. I don't know...maybe it's time to stop."

He got up on his knees and crawled across the bed toward her. "I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it this morning."

"Let's just say that when I make up my mind, I really make up my mind." She ran a finger up his arm and to his lips. "Besides, I had to keep you interested."

"Oh, I'm interested. So...what does this mean? Are we a..._couple_?"

She turned the word over in her head. "Yeah. I guess we are."

"Wow. A couple." He smiled at her and brushed her hair from her shoulder. "So, what do we do now?"

She kissed him on that spot on his neck that made him quiver. "Oh, we'll think of something."

XXXXX

He went to get some breakfast from the diner across the street while she showered. She opened the curtain after she dressed and looked out onto Milton in the daylight. The morning sun was shining brightly, and the snow had already begun to melt.

Woody was standing in the parking lot talking to a burly man in a pick-up truck. He waved to the man and hurried back to the room.

"Hey, good news," he said, handing her a muffin and a cup of coffee. "I'm going to go get some gas, and then Big Earl out there is going to give me a lift back to the car. I'll be back to pick you up in a few minutes, and then we'll hit the road."

"Okay, let's get this straight. You didn't want to stay in this motel last night, but you're perfectly willing to get in a pick-up truck with a guy named 'Big Earl?'"

"Come on, Jordan! Where's your spirit of adventure?" he teased and stole a bite of her muffin. "Be back soon." He gave her a quick kiss and jumped in the truck with Big Earl.

She headed down to the office to checkout. Woody returned twenty minutes later, and she ran out to the car and slid in the passenger seat.

He pulled out to the edge of the parking lot. "So...which way?"

She pointed authoritatively to the right. "That way."

"You seem pretty sure of yourself."

"Sometimes you've just got to pick a plan and go with it."

He shook his head. "All right..."

"Hey, I was the one who told you to take the back road, and that turned out okay, didn't it?"

He grinned. "Right it is, then."

He pulled the car out onto the road and made a right.

"Okay, if we're going to be a couple, we're going to have to lay some ground rules," she said firmly.

"Such as?"

"No matching clothing. If we go to Disneyland..."

"We're going to Disneyland?" he asked giddily.

She ignored him and continued. "_If_ we go to Disneyland, we're not getting matching leather jackets with Mickey Mouse on the back and our names embroidered on the front."

"Note to self: cancel Jordan's Christmas present."

"And no cutesy nicknames. I don't want to be honeybuns, or schmoopy or snugglebear, okay?"

"Fine, but that puts the kibosh on my plan to refer to you only as 'sweetcheeks' from here on out."

"Ha Ha."

"All right. No nicknames for Jordan. But you can refer to me as 'Big Woody' anytime you like." She rolled her eyes playfully. "Anything else?"

She grinned and slipped her hand into his. "Let's just see where the road takes us."

And they drove on.

THE END


End file.
